GENERAL INTENTION FOR MAY, 1888.

Designated by His Eminence the Cardinal Protector of the League of the Sacred Heart, called the Apostleship of Prayer, (the Prefect of the Propaganda), and confirmed with His special blessing by His Holiness Leo XIII.

DISCOURAGED SOULS.

O temptation is so cowardly, says St. Francis de Sales, as that to discouragement. Yet this is one of the commonest temptations, even among the pious, and one that is least noticed.

Souls that could perfectly well strive after something like Christian perfection continue on in a life of very common virtue and piety, because they have lost heart in trying to be better than what they are. They content themselves at last with saying-I am not a Saint, and that is the end of it. But that should not be the end of it, for every Christian is called to become a Saint, or as near like one as he can. And God gives grace to everyone for that purpose. How foolish then is discouragement. I can do all things, says St. Paul, in Him that strengtheneth me.'

Others who attend to their own perfection with much piety and active virtue, become discouraged about others: they no longer have the same confidence in prayer for them, and they do not take the same live interest in works of zeal and prayer, or in the public good works which are found in the community where they live. They do not see all the world around them converted and happy, and they give up to discouragement, thinking the world may just as well wag along as it will.

Yet others extend this discouragement to the welfare of the Church. They read much about all the opposition their Holy Mother is meeting with in other countries, which once were Catholic; they hear of the advances made by the spirit of the world and the flesh among those who are separated from the Church, thus unfitting them for conversion; and they say well, after all, the world will never be converted. So they leave off helping the Church by their prayers and by the inspiring influence of their confidence.

The month of May is the month of Mary-our Lady of Good Hope and Help of Christians. She stood at the foot of the Cross-the Queen of Martyrs and yet her confidence did not fail. That her spirit of high and holy courage may be breathed into all Christians-for themselves, for their neighbor, for the universal Church-is the intention proposed to the prayers of the League of the Sacred Heart during this beautiful month.

Philippians, iv. 13.

1.

IN

PILGRIM NOTES.

N the large MESSENGER for this month, we shall give the history of Angela, through whom June, the month of roses, came to be kept as the month of the Sacred Heart, just as May is kept as the month of Mary. Even the readers of our PILGRIM-the Little MESSENGER-will like to remember the work she has done. A wild young girl at school, her life has been rightly called "a triumph of religious education." It is not yet fifty years since she died, a young wife and mother, at the age of twenty-eight; but her work lives behind her in many and many a church and convent chapel through the world. Like the beautiful picture our Chinese missionary has drawn for us, our souls should remain through this first month of summer loveliness kneeling at the feet of our Lord, pleading with His Divine Heart for the graces needed by ourselves and others. Learn of me, He says, that I am meek and humble of Heart. And again, My child, give Me thy Heart.2

2. Some of our good friends who read our pages attentively have disclosed to us the origin of the talkative and graceful little poem-The

'St. Matthew, xi. 29.

2 Proverbs, xxiii. 26.

Copyright, 1888, by Rev. R. S. Dewey, S. J.

121

Changed Cross-printed in our last number. The copy sent us had indeed been found in A Lady's Journal, without further indication. She was like the wise woman who has in her treasures things both new and old. This particular poem stands first in a little volume bearing its name, published some years ago by A. D. F. Randolph of New York. The Mother Superior of a Brooklyn convent writes that the book "is evidently Episcopalian in its drift." Let us pray that the drift has set so far seaward as to bring the "Hon. Mrs. Charles Hobart," to whom the poem is credited, within range of the Bark of St. Peter.

3. Crosses the Irish Cross among the number-seem to bring editors into trouble. We have ourselves discovered, and that at the first reading, a very grave and yet a very lucky blunder in the article of that name. If no one else has yet reported it to us, is it because so little interest is felt in the true devotions of " dear old Ireland," or perhaps because so little is known about them? In either case, how lucky we can come back on them once again. Armagh's martyred archbishop of recent days," Oliver Plunket— (with one, not two t's)—has not yet the title of Blessed, nor was "his beatification last year." But he is on the way, and whether he is raised to our altars, as it seems to us his blessed life and death have richly deserved, will depend largely on the efforts of his own race. He has been declared Venerable, that is, his name is on the list of those whose cause is to be investigated, before solemn decision is given that he died for the Catholic faith. On the 11th of July, 1681, he was executed at Tyburn, already so glorious with its martyrs of Christ. Cardinal Moran, in his life of the Venerable Archbishop, says of him: "Dr. Plunket was the last victim to the anti-Catholic fury with which the English nation was then inflamed." He adds something of practical importance: "There is one peculiar feature of the reverence shown to our great Prelate, which here merits special commemoration:-During the past years many temperance societies have been formed under the invocation and patronage of Oliver Plunket; the friends of temperance fondly persuading themselves that he who, throughout his apostolic career, had labored so earnestly and so unceasingly to root out from his flock the degrading vice of drunkeness would not now fail to plead before the Throne of God, even more efficaciously than during life, the holy cause in which they were engaged."

A PIOUS TALE OF TWO DOGS AND A CAPTAIN.

THE

HE "gold fever" was at its height. "Every man should go
to California," was the cry.
Mr. C went with the

crowd.

Meanwhile his family caught the emigration mania in a milder form, and left the city for a pretty little village where they could enjoy the sweets of rural life. Of course all were lonesome, but there was one with particular, though untold, reasons for lamenting the absence of the head of the family. A peculiar tie had united the two. Willie Francis, with the terrible directness of a threeyear-old, had been the first to announce this bond of union.

"Papa and 'Olla bofe eat meat F'iday."

How Papa had enjoyed that discovery. Every one had been told of it; Rolla was often called, as "my fellow sinner," to partake of the Protestant dish at the table. There was no end to the amusement derived from the combination which infant perspicacity had pointed out.

Now the evil times had come for Rolla. He was the only Friday meat-eater at home; and as he persisted in cherishing old notions in the face of new circumstances, he fared badly. In fact he did not "fare" at all on Friday. It became a black fast to him ; refusing abstinence dishes and turning with disdain from the cold meat set away for him, he roamed dejectedly around, and at last, throwing himself on the ground with a prolonged sigh, found relief in slumber. The little circle watched him with mingled sorrow and amusement, and word was sent to the fellow-sinner of his constancy to unpopish habit.

Indeed it was gravely proposed by one of the family to supply Rolla with his old bill of fare, but the proposition was unanimously negatived. Cook meat for an animal on abstinence days? Preposerous-To which she retorted that only animals required it justly.

After a few weeks, however, whether from the habit of fasting or the strength of a philosophical mind, Rolla grew accustomed to the deprivation. He still refused to eat, but without dejection or impatience; nobly overlooking the injury, he contributed his share, as of old, to the general entertainment. His tender-hearted mistress rejoiced, and news of the happy change went by the "overland route" in due season.

Meantime the C-s had become accustomed to their new home. The few neighbors were congenial, the church was at a convenient distance, the place more wholesome than many of the new Western settlements, and with plenty of ground for garden, poultry, and fruit-raising, there was no fear of monotony during the exile's absence.

The adjoining property was owned by a Captain in the army, then lately returned from Mexico. In the master's frequent absence, the place was left in charge of a number of servants, favorite slaves, who on the death of the old mistress found themselves free, but would by no means leave the "boy," as they still considered the mature Captain.

In this house also reigned a pet dog, a great Newfoundland, well named Prince, for his demeanor was singularly lofty and ceremonious. Even the servants dared not treat him but with quiet respect. In his walks no companion, either two-footed or four-footed, was ever seen; his master alone, people said, was on intimate terms of acquaintance with the stately Prince.

Rolla had tried several times to attract his attention, but was passed by as if unseen. Great, therefore, was the surprise of one of the family, when one afternoon she saw the huge dog bound over the front paling, and drop something on the ground, then spring back to the side-walk and move majestically to his home. Starting out in haste she found Rolla in the act of picking up a large piece of steak, with which he darted away through the shrubbery.

Of course she hastened to detail the incident, and equally of course was well laughed at. It was indeed scarcely credible to herself, for only the day previous she had seen the two dogs pass each other as strangers. Besides this was Friday, Rolla wanted meat, Prince could not have known, yet he brought it, and Rolla was evidently near the spot expecting it.

"There is some mystery here!" thought she, "and I will watch next Friday."

Next

She did, and was rewarded by a repetition of the scene. week all were on the lookout, and there could be no dispute of the unaccountable fact. Several weeks passed; regularly as Friday came, the strange benefactor brought a fine piece of meat to the evidently expectant Rolla.